


At the Hogsnock Baths

by phoenixgal



Series: Scenes from a Life [13]
Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Friendship, Guys weekend, Harry Potter & Ron Weasley Friendship, Magical Hot Springs, Multi, Polyamory
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-03-31
Updated: 2017-03-31
Packaged: 2018-10-13 04:07:37
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,926
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10506039
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/phoenixgal/pseuds/phoenixgal
Summary: Harry invites Ron to the opening of Parvati's new spa retreat for a chance to get back to their friendship, but running into Neville and experiencing the inhibition lowering waters may have ruined their chance.





	

**Author's Note:**

> Ron's a bit insensitive about Harry being queer, but particular about polyamory.

“This place is incredible, right?” Harry observed as he lowered himself into the steaming water. “Who knew this was practically in our backyard all those years at Hogwarts?”

“Not me,” Neville said. “Though to be fair, I don't suppose I would have thought sitting in hot water doing nothing was of much appeal when I was twelve, even if it was magical spring water that's supposed to make you happy.”

“And Parvati said it was all run down before she got her hands on it.” Harry looked down the path at Ron approaching in a robe, holding a towel. “Ron, look who I found.”

“Oh,” Ron said, sounding unsure. “Who else did Parvati invite do you suppose?”

“Dunno,” Neville said. “And don't care either. My Monday classes are covered and I do not have to deal with children terrorizing my gardens or greenhouses for an entire three days.” He sank into the water, submersing his head then coming up again. “No offense to you breeders who parented the terrorists.” He gestured vaguely at the two of them, his eyes meeting Harry's with a light smile.

“Oi,” Harry said, splashing him slightly. “My offspring have a long legacy of Hogwarts marauding to uphold.”

“And the tools to do it with. Al and Scorpius are lucky I gave them back that map I took off them.”

“I don't even want to know where you found them or what they were up to,” Harry said, shaking his head.

“They're basically adults,” Neville said, with a smile. He knew the boys had a special place in Neville's heart, even if they didn't love herbology.

“They want to go visit Charlie in America next year. Merlin help us all. In my mind, they're still kids. They say kids are supposed to be disturbed by their parents having sex. No one warned me how disturbing it would be to see your kids become adults.”

Ron was still standing at the edge of the pool clutching his towel, still wearing the lushly soft white bathing robe over his trunks. His sandal-footed toe poked at some of the greenery that surrounded the magical hot spring pool they were soaking in. Harry realized with a sinking feeling in his chest that Ron was about to be weird.

When he ran into Parvati at the Ministry a few weeks before, finalizing permits on her new business venture, she had invited him to come to what she called the “soft opening,” a free weekend where she made sure everything was running smoothly. “Bring a friend,” she said. “But a man, please! I have enough women and I've been scrambling to get men who want a spa weekend. They think it's too girly or something, but I need male feedback too!” It had been awhile since Harry had managed to spend any time with Ron apart from the chaos of their oversized family. He thought it would be a good opportunity to hang out together.

But now that he was faced with Ron alone in what should have been a good place for old friends to unwind together, he was reminded exactly why he rarely seemed to find himself in Ron's company in the last few years. Harry felt like he had spent the last two decades slowly working out all his neuroses and traumas to be more happy in his own skin. Ron seemed to have worked his way further and further into his. He seemed profoundly uncomfortable to Harry's eye sometimes, as if he wasn't sure what he wanted to be doing or how he wanted to be doing it. Harry had thought when he left the Ministry several years before to become the Hogsmeade manager of Weasley's Wizarding Wheezes, that he would settle having a career that maybe suited him better. But instead, whenever Harry saw him, he seemed, if anything, less sure of himself, almost like when they were kids. Harry wanted to be sympathetic, but he found himself impatient with Ron's insecurities.

Neville was still talking, about how Gryffindor finally had a chance at the quidditch cup with Lily as seeker, about some fifth year Ravenclaw who was trying to cultivate some extinct magical plant, about a funny story involving the new defense professor and a trunk filled with puffskeins. He floated down in the water and poked Harry with his foot. “Remember second year? Lockhart and those Cornish pixies?”

Harry chuckled and nodded, but he couldn't help seeing Ron looking away from Neville's casual touch and he suddenly felt frustrated. “Ron, would you just get in!”

Neville raised an eyebrow at him but said nothing.

Ron shuffled about for a minute and made a couple of remarks about needing to work out more. Harry fought the urge to yell at him. If he was out of shape in middle age, he was really only calling attention to himself. But he wasn't. Or, at least, he had gone soft in the middle, but they all had to greater and lesser extents. Making it worse in a way, Harry couldn't work out whether Ron was being homophobic again because he thought Harry and Neville might be checking him out or if he was simply that unsure of himself.

At least he finally got in the water, Harry thought. The most ridiculous part of him was definitely not the slight paunch to his belly or the reddish hair or his chest or even the slightly thinning hair on his head, but his neon yellow swim trunks with green polka dots.

“Nice trunks, Ron,” Neville teased.

Ron looked annoyed but then seemed unsure how not to take the mild jab as anything but an actual compliment. “Um, thanks,” he muttered.

“How's Hermione?” Neville asked.

“Good,” Ron said. “Busy.”

“I heard she'll be the first Muggle-born appointed to the Wizengamot in almost a century when she takes office next month,” Neville said. “No wonder she's busy.”

Ron still seemed stiff but Harry suspected the water was working its magic on him. Even without the supposed magical properties to loosen inhibitions and relax any wizards soaking in it, just plain hot spring water had a magic of its own.

“I can't even keep up with half the cases she works on these days,” Ron admitted.

For a little while, they talked about politics and the Ministry and various things that had been in the paper recently. Harry could feel the water working on him. He wasn't totally sure what it was doing, but it was nice. He felt looser and more relaxed, a bit like he felt after a pint of firewhiskey but more in his body and less in his head. He was rarely in the field now that he was the boss, which was good, but being at a desk had its own stress attached. And seeing James begin to get launched in the world, starting his first job and living with friends in Grimmauld Place, not to mention the stress of Albus's NEWT year, was another source of persistant low level stress. It felt good to be somewhere new where two way notepads were banned and owls could only be sent from the front gate, to have a task of letting everything go. 

And Ron seemed to be actually relaxing too. He had opinions about some of the business rules the Ministry was trying to implement as well as about international trade. He stopped looking down at his swim trunks with dismay or holding his arms across his front self consciously and dipped his head in the water, letting himself float for a little while.

“Didn't Hermione have something to do with the new legislation on magical creatures?” Neville asked, circling back around to Hermione's job and promotions.

“Yeah,” Ron said. “But don't ask me to explain it.”

“Hagrid approved,” Neville said. “Mostly, that is. He didn't like some of the exclusions.”

“Probably still wants his own dragon,” Ron said.

Harry chuckled. “Do you know that story, Nev? About first year when we helped Hagrid smuggle a baby dragon off school grounds?”

Neville shook his head. “Merlin. Don't even. I used to think I was missing out on the fun, but that just sounds like trouble.”

“Did you call us terrorists earlier?” Harry asked.

“Only as a joke. I suppose smuggling dangerous creatures would really qualify though. You're lucky it was Dumbledore in the headmaster's office. I think Minerva would have locked you both up and thrown away the key.”

Harry laughed and saw that Ron cracked a smile.

“Minerva,” Harry teased.

Neville rolled his eyes. “I am old. But at least I'm not that old.”

“Do not let McGonnagal hear you say that!” Ron said.

“Not if you value your job,” Harry added, splashing Neville again lightly.

Neville splashed him back. The warmth of the water moved up Harry's neck and he smiled. Maybe this would all be okay after all.

“Not if I value my life,” Neville said. “But you can't tell her even if you wanted to. Parvati had me checking her spellwork when I got here this morning. Did you read the fine print? What happens at the baths stays at the baths.”

“What do you mean?” Ron asked.

“Just a provision in the contract. The water has mild inhibition lowering qualities. And Parvati is hoping to cater to a pretty exclusive clientele once she opens next month. To entice people to come and trust her, it's in the contract. You can't tell people anything that happens or is said here without express permission from all parties involved. If you try, you'll find yourself repeating the spa's slogan instead. Come to the Hogsnock Baths, the most magical baths in all of Britain.”

Harry laughed. “You mean nothing I do here can get in the Prophet?”

“Nothing,” Neville promised. “Pays to read the fine print. You should hit on the massage guy, Harry,” Neville teased. “You wouldn't believe how fit he was.”

“How dare you, Neville Longbottom, I'm a happily married man.”

Neville snorted and Harry grinned. He liked this, flirting back and forth with Neville. Neville was so good at it. And he hadn't seen him for months.

“Don't forget I've seen your happy marriage up and close and personal, mate,” Neville said, resting his feet across Harry's lap. “I'm reasonably sure that, contrary to anyone's expectations, hitting on other men is what keeps it so happy.”

“And why would I hit on the massage guy when you're here?” Harry felt bubbly and happy inside.

Neville chuckled. “Perhaps because he looks a bit like someone used him as a sculpture model for a Greek god. But, hey, you don't want him...”

There was a rustling in the water and Harry looked up to see Ron leaving, grabbing his robe and walking off down the heated path toward the old inn where they had their room.

Harry shook his head. “Fuck. I was supposed to be playing nice for Ron. I did drag him out here to have a friendly weekend together. What was I thinking?”

Neville sighed. “The water. Inhibitions.”

“Merlin's balls, that's stronger than I realized,” Harry said, looking down into the hot spring pool.

“Well, it's also been easy with us the last couple of years,” Neville pointed out. “Not much inhibitions here. You were already my inhibition lowering agent,” Neville teased. “Getting me scandalously in bed with a woman.”

“Oh, sleeping with me while my wife's there counts as in bed, does it?” Harry sighed. “I have to go after him, I suppose.” Neville shifted his feet away and Harry leaned over to take a slow kiss from Neville, opening into the familiar movement of his lips.

“You'll have to go hit on the massage guy,” Harry said, as he got out of the water, pulling on the robe he'd worn and sliding on the canvas sandals. “You can use the water as an excuse.”

“Maybe I will,” Neville said. “There's no way he's as good at bantering than you though.”

Part of Harry wished he could stay and enjoy Neville's company, but he knew that if he did, he'd only be in for grief later. Ron was his brother-in-law. He couldn't avoid him. They shared a family.

Harry marveled again at what a good job Parvati had done as he walked down the magically heated path, past lush plants and toward the old inn. It didn't look like anything in the wizarding world. She had clearly gotten her inspiration from high end Muggle hotels, which Harry knew almost nothing about. But he thought despite the wizarding world's adoration of all things old and musty that this would probably do amazing business. People their age seemed to have a great deal more contact with the Muggle world. Muggle traditions had seeped into the wizarding world as well.

Inside the inn, Harry passed the portraits of lounging old wizards enjoying the baths and went up the thickly carpeted stairs to his room. The door was still ajar and Ron was inside, stuffing things into his suitcase. He had pulled on a gray and purple jumper but hadn't taken off his trunks yet, which made for a pretty hilarious look.

“No, Ron, don't do that,” Harry said, feeling how weary his voice sounded.

“I didn't come here to… to…” Ron stumbled over his words.

“Oh just say it,” Harry said.

“To watch you and Neville make out,” Ron said, his voice tight. “I didn't even know you were… you know.”

“We have a thing sometimes is all. I didn't even know he was going to be here,” Harry said. “So I definitely didn't intend it. As Neville reminded me, inhibition lowering magic waters.”

Ron harumphed.

“If you'd just have said something instead of storming off.”

“Like what? Stop flirting?”

“Yes,” Harry said. “That would have been fine, assuming you weren't in such a snit about it. You may have noticed we don't mind gentle teasing.”

“I'm not in a snit,” Ron said.

“But you are,” Harry said. “I know it bothers you, me sleeping with men. You may as well be honest about it instead of constantly expressing your disgust through snide little comments.”

“When have I ever!” Ron exclaimed. “I don't care if you're gay or bisexual or whatever. It's not… if you do… that… it's none of my business.”

“There!” Harry said. “That's exactly what I mean! Imagine if every time your marriage came up, I looked like I'd just smelled stink pellets. Imagine if every time you mentioned Hermione, I said something that implied what you did with her wasn't fit for conversation.”

“I don't do that!” Ron snarled. “Besides, my marriage is normal!”

“And mine isn't?”

Ron sputtered. “You have to admit that it's not!”

Part of Harry wanted to make a mild joke and ignore everything Ron had said to this point. It really wasn't any of his business. And Harry was used to letting it roll off him. He wasn't entirely sure why he was being so confrontational about it now.

“Fine, maybe we don't have the average marriage, but it works for us. And you don't have to say it like we're freaks.”

“I didn't!”

“You did!”

There was something sadly familiar about this sort of bickering with Ron. They had first done it as children and sometimes the patterns of behavior were hard to shake. As kids, Ron was often jealous of him. Harry somehow thought that wasn't the case now.

“I don't think you're a freak,” Ron muttered. “How can you say that? It's not even about that.”

“Then what…?”

“How can you and Ginny…?” Ron looked uncomfortable.

“No one's asking you to get it,” Harry said. “Just to leave the judgment behind.”

Harry looked down frustratedly at his lack of clothing. He wanted to get dressed. It was awkward to have a serious conversation, or more honestly, an argument, while half naked in swim trunks and a robe. He shrugged off the bathrobe and grabbed a shirt from his own opened suitcase.

Ron made an indistinct noise and turned away.

“Do you mind if I get dressed?” Harry snipped.

“I'll just… um...”

“For goodness sakes, Ron. I'm just getting dressed. You can get out of your wet trunks too if you like. We did share a dorm room and then a tent for the better part of a decade you know. I'm not about to jump you!”

For a moment the two of them looked at each other across the two beds holding their suitcases then Ron actually laughed. Harry had no idea what was going through his mind, but Harry laughed as well. And then they were stripping off wet swim things and putting on clothes as if they hadn't just been nearly yelling at each other.

“I'm starved,” Ron said.

“Free food,” Harry said.

There was a formal dining room, but Harry saw that there were also tables in the gardens. Everything appeared by magic. And every meal listed on the menu had a paired potion laced drink to accompany it. “They're very mild,” Parvati said when they passed her holding menus on their way to a table in the gardens.

“Mild like the hot spring waters?” Harry asked.

“Yes, exactly,” she said.

“Maybe we should pass,” Harry said.

“Oh no, too late now,” Ron said and there was something wild in his voice.

The menu listed a dazzling array of options. Peach fizz with nostalgia, mead with a drop of lust, elderberry wine with euphoria.

“I have no idea how to even read the food, but at least the drink is obvious,” Ron said, throwing the menu down on the table.

“Obviously we'll get the pairing for the mint infusion with conviviality,” Harry said. “I'm not better at choosing posh food than you, mate.”

The garden was oddly warm, powered by heating spells, Harry was sure. They could see the steam rising from the various magical pools on the other end of the garden, but a vague steamy mist also encircled the edge of the garden. The greenery made it feel like they were completely secluded and once they said their order, the menus vanished and the food appeared by what could only be house elf magic. Harry wondered how many house elves Parvati had gotten with this old place.

Ron looked at their surroundings and the drink with a curving straw and tiny leaves sticking out of it and the plate with a sauce drizzled just so. “This place is so...” He trailed off.

“Queer?” Harry asked.

“Ridiculous,” Ron said. “I was going to say ridiculous.”

“You should give that feedback to Parvati.”

“Don't worry, I will.”

“We're ridiculous,” Harry said. “Quarreling like kids. So I suppose we blend right in.”

Ron sipped his drink and poked at his food. “I'm sorry if I made you uncomfortable,” he said quietly, mostly to the cut of meat on his plate. “I know how it must have looked. I don't mind… it's not my business and… I try not to...” He trailed off miserably.

“I suppose I could say the same thing,” Harry said.

“I hate that we don't talk anymore,” Ron said. “Not since I left the Ministry. Not since that time when I saw you kissing Neville a few years ago.”

“It was before that, Ron,” Harry said quietly. “For me.”

“I'm sorry if I overreacted then. And now. It's not the gay thing, really. But you're married… to my sister. I saw you and Neville and I can't helping thinking what would she think.”

Harry sighed. “Can I be blunt? Totally honest?”

“Yeah,” Ron said, looking up and meeting Harry's eyes.

“If Ginny had been in the hot springs with us, she'd have been encouraging us. She gets off on it.”

Ron made a gulping noise. “Maybe not that honest.”

“Right.”

“I just don't get it,” Ron complained. “I mean, how does that even work?”

Harry almost snorted the bite of food he was chewing. “Tell me you're not asking me to explain gay sex to you, Ron. Because I can, but, um...”

Ron turned beet red in an instant. “No!” he practically gasped. “Not! I meant...”

“Take a sip,” Harry laughed, gesturing to the drinks, as Ron coughed and sputtered. “What did you mean?” Perhaps it was only the effects of the drinks and the waters combined, but Harry felt like he was actually beginning to enjoy the conversation.

“I meant,” Ron started once he'd regained his voice. “If I even looked at another woman, Hermione'd have my neck on a platter. How do you let go like that? Not that I want to,” he added quickly.

Harry shrugged. “We didn't know what we were doing at all. I think if someone had helped us understand that spelling out the rules helps, a lot of grief could have been avoided.”

“Like what?”

Harry shrugged. “Like, I thought she was going to leave me for Julianna for awhile. And I got very jealous. And then we fought. And just after Lily was born, she slept with Dean and we had an enormous row and then I left for a couple of months.”

Ron's eyes were practically bugged out.

“Sorry, too honest again?”

“No. Or maybe.”

“I thought you knew that last part,” Harry said quietly.

“No. She never said.”

“Oh. She should have. I know your mum knows. She was right nasty to me for awhile. It was deserved.”

“I can't believe Ginny...”

“No,” Harry said, cutting him off. “Don't blame her. We both made mistakes.”

“And you don't anymore?”

“We do. But we have a better sense of how to do this with rules and what they are for us.”

“What are they?” Everything Ron said still looked like he was gulping down his words, but Harry thought it must be progress. Obviously not talking about it hadn't helped over the last twenty years. If they were to be friends again, like they once had been, and not just in laws who talked about their kids, he supposed he had to talk about it. And it was funny. He never did this. Not with anyone. It felt odd.

“She can't sleep with another man unless I'm there. She introduces me to anyone new she's going to sleep with beforehand, not after, though it's been a few years since that's even been an issue. I can do a one off, but anything more and she meets him. Honest about where we are. Don't miss date night, because all old married couples should have a date night.”

“She can't sleep with another man unless you're there?” Ron's voice was slightly choked. “But what about...”

“Ron, I've never slept with any woman but Ginny. I've never even slept with Julianna and she's been in our lives for eons now. I've never especially wanted to. If I wasn't so absurdly, desperately in love with her, I think I'd think I was just gay.”

“Oh.”

Harry laughed and Ron, though he was still slightly red faced, laughed a little too. “We're happy. Not all marriages have to be the same, you know.”

“Yeah. Right.” Ron still looked embarrassed, but he hadn't gotten up to run away.

“Okay, turnabout is fair play. Now you have to tell me something.”

“What?” Ron looked scared.

“Don't know. Anything really. I just told you all about my sex life so it better be something good. Something juicy.”

Ron drained the last of his drink, but continued to look slightly flustered.

“Nothing about Hermione though. I think I kept your sister out of the conversation the best I could.”

“Not well enough,” Ron said.

“Fine, then take revenge and make me uncomfortable.”

Ron sighed. “I can't do that. I've got something, but you can't tell anyone this.”

Harry grinned. “You have my word. Better, it's in the contract. I won't even be able to.”

“Good. Because…” He shook his head. “Ineversoldtheflat,” he said in a rush.

“What was that?”

“The flat. The one off Diagon Alley that Hermione and I lived in when we first married. I never sold it.”

“But you moved ages ago.”

“Ten years ago,” he said.

“Then what…?”

“I divided it up,” Ron said. “I had an offer for it to be used commercially, so I divided the upstairs and the downstairs.”

“Why is this a secret? Or juicy?” Harry asked.

“Hermione doesn't know,” Ron admitted. “She thinks I sold it. I knew she wouldn't go for renting it out because Diggle is so dodgy. But I took the profits off our first year in business and she thought it was the money from the sale. And then I kept the upstairs for myself.”

“Wait,” Harry said. “Are you telling me that years ago you went into business with Daedelus and leased him a space and kept a secret… what? A secret room for yourself? What do you do there? What is Diggle selling these days?”

“He's not selling anything,” Ron said. “He passed away last year.”

“So…?”

“I inherited the business. It's not even that dodgy. Or that interesting. We do owl orders for Muggle books adapted to the wizarding market.”

“What?”

“You know how most folk won't read a Muggle book? Abby, that's Daedelus's niece, makes a nice moving cover for it and rewrites a few bits to make it more wizard friendly. Muggles seem to like books about people dying of some disease called cancer, but wizards don't get that, so she turns it into a curse or dragonpox or something. She takes out all the Muggle magic with lectricity too. Some of them sell very well. I don't see the problem myself, but Hermione tried to explain to me about Muggle replication writing laws. I guess you're not supposed to do it without permission. But we're paying for the books, see. Abby bewitches each one individually. We just charge a small fee.”

“Small fee?” Harry felt like he was going to double over with laughter. “How much are you making?”

Ron blushed. “That's the problem. I don't even take that big a cut anymore. But it's too much to put in my Gringott's account. Hermione'd get all suspicious. Some of it I just spend. Bought Mum and Dad a new owl last year. And a new Floo grate, the kind that makes you less dizzy when you travel. And I gave Hugo a new racing broom and Rosie one of those library sacks with the shelves inside. It was a right nice one, but don't tell Hermione. She thought I got it secondhand. The rest I gave to the Hogwarts scholarship fund.”

Harry kept laughing. “Oh, Ron. This is too funny. You accidentally ended up with too much money as an adult!”

“I know,” he said, looking unsure. “It's a bit odd, honestly. I still sometimes think I'm going to run out of funds with the kids in school and all. It's what I was used to in school. Having to make do and all that.”

“Wait!” Harry exclaimed. “The room! What about that part?”

“Oh,” Ron said. “Just has a sofa and a little kitchen. And I have a bunch of my old Chudley Canons stuff there. The stuff Hermione wanted me to bin years ago. Just a good place to have a nap without her knowing. It was brilliant when I was still working in London. I'd have an ice cream at Florian Fortesque's and then pop up with a Muggle novel and nap before going home.”

Harry was now laughing so hard they had attracted the attention of some of the other visitors in the garden.

“You think it's lame,” Ron huffed.

“No, I think it's brilliant. You've made a fortune you can't use. And you have a secret room for napping.”

“Merlin, my life is such a failure.”

“What are you talking about?” Harry asked. “I'm serious when I say it's brilliant.”

“It's not exciting affairs or anything.” Ron looked slightly red faced.

“Ron, did you not hear me when I said we nearly ruined our marriage?” Harry asked. “And do you want to have an affair? I know I said not to make me uncomfortable, but really, are you and Hermione…?”

“Everything's fine,” Ron said. “She's wonderful.”

Harry grinned. “So then what's the problem?”

“I have no idea.” Ron looked confused.

“Do you think they have a drink that comes with satisfaction with your own life?” Harry asked.

“It's magic. The effects would be temporary,” Ron complained, but he smiled.

Looking out into the garden, Harry could see Neville in the distance as he sat down to take his own supper. He put his feet up and pulled out a book that he was quickly immersed in. His feet were bare to the warm grass and his hair was slicked back wet from the baths.

Ron followed his gaze. “Really, Harry? Neville? Why?”

Harry looked away and laughed. “You really are totally straight, aren't you, Ron? He may have been awkward when we were kids, but he got all fit before we left school and middle age has been good to him. He's gorgeous now.”

Ron rolled his eyes slightly and Harry pictured the Neville of their youth, chubby and round-faced and perpetually scared. They had all grown up and changed so much.

“That's one of ours,” Ron said, his face screwed up slightly.

“One of…?”

“Our books,” Ron said. “That he's reading.”

Harry burst into laughter again and Ron joined him. This was much more fun than awkward conversations. And maybe the weekend would turn out all right after all.


End file.
